Hellboy II: The Golden Army -- A bit tarnished

Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008) • View trailer for Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for profanity and considerable action violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.10.08
Buy DVD: Hellboy II: The Golden Army • Buy Blu-Ray: Hellboy II: The Golden Army [Blu-ray]


Back when he made 2004's Hellboy, Mexican director Guillermo del Toro was a star on the rise, known primarily in this country for an obscure (but quite imaginative) 1997 horror flick, Mimic, and 2002's stylish but otherwise forgettable second entry in Wesley Snipes' Blade series.

And you think you're having a bad day? Our misfit heroes — from left,
protoplasmic mystic Johann Krauss, aquatic empath Abe Sapien (Doug Jones),
reformed demon Hellboy (Ron Perlman) and pyrokinetic Liz Sherman (Selma
Blair) — reluctantly prepare for a last stand against 4,900 massive robot
warriors of death.

Arthouse patrons also had some exposure to del Toro, thanks to 2001's wonderfully moody ghosts-in-an-orphanage saga, The Devil's Backbone.

What a difference four years makes.

Today, deservedly riding the enormous success of Pan's Labyrinth, del Toro has used his enhanced prestige to rebound with — no, not another adult chiller in the mold of his Academy Award darling — a second crack at one of his favorite comic book characters.

Yep, Hellboy is back, in Hellboy II: The Golden Army ... but as far as del Toro's career is concerned, this sequel is a backwards step.

I don't fault the intent: Unlike too many stuffy Americans, del Toro is an unapologetic pop culture junkie, and that's commendable. (Del Toro's movie and comic book collection has grown so huge that he had to purchase a second house just to store it.)

And, like some of the more talented writers and artists toiling in the comic book medium these days, del Toro understands that these four-color adventures can be tailored for older audiences. I just wish del Toro had matched this new film's rich, imaginative and eye-popping visuals with a similarly strong and engaging script.

Granted, comic book writer/artist Mike Mignola's Hellboy — Mignola co-wrote this film's script with del Toro — remains a singularly fascinating protagonist.

Actually a demon spawned in hell and brought to Earth as an infant by WWII-era Nazis seeking any means to defeat the Allies — honestly, you gotta love this character's backstory — Hellboy was rescued by the good guys and raised to protect mankind from the occasional paranormal assault or underworld invasion.

His efforts remain under the radar, thanks to the belief by his government "handlers" that ordinary folks might have trouble getting cuddly with a horned red creature sporting a tail, a (literally) sledgehammer right hand and a snarky attitude ... even if he does adore kittens.

By necessity, then, Hellboy's good deed-doing has remained clandestine, as the head bad-ass for the top-top-secret Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, where he's joined by several other misfit agents. All are "chaperoned" by long-suffering government wonk Tom Manning (Jeffrey Tambor, always a hoot as a fussy bureaucrat).

Think Men in Black, but with a so-ugly-he's-cute hero instead of handsome fellas in three-piece suits.

Hancock: Identity crisis

Hancock (2008) • View trailer for Hancock
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for vulgarity and action violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.3.08
Buy DVD: Hancock • Buy Blu-Ray: Hellboy II: The Golden Army [Blu-ray]

Movies don't surprise me very often — and I mean really surprise me — but Hancock isn't at all what I expected.

When it looks as if Ray (Jason Bateman, up in the air) and his car are about to
get squashed by an approaching train, Los Angeles' randomly helpful superhero,
Hancock (Will Smith), does a good deed but still destroys too much public
property in the process. Ray's challenge, which he subsequently embraces, is to
get the city to like its resident champion ... despite his flaws.

We can be forgiven for believing, thanks to the misleading publicity campaign, that Will Smith's summer entry is a lowbrow comedy about a homeless, disenfranchised superhero with a bad attitude and no concern for his public image. It's a reasonably clever concept; nowhere is it written that all superheroes should (or will) possess Superman's moral integrity and flag-waving belief in truth, justice and the American way.

But the previews made this flick look like a monumentally unfunny echo of My Super Ex-Girlfriend, the 2006 debacle that did nothing to assist Uma Thurman's already sagging career. It appeared as though even Smith's considerable charm — and box-office clout — might not be up to the challenge of selling Hancock.

Now that the film has arrived ... well, I'm still not sure.

During its first act, director Peter Berg's film is every bit as clumsy and forced as the coming attractions suggested. But something unexpected happens about halfway in, at which point Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan's script veers into territory that I can't discuss here, at the risk of giving too much away.

And the film, up to this point an uneasy blend of low comedy and social conscience, becomes a poignant drama.

This shift, alas, creates fresh problems.

At an economical 95 minutes, Hancock would have been a zippy little summer comedy with so-so special effects and a modestly engaging premise. We approach such films with minimal expectations and are willing to forgive lapses in continuity or plot logic.

But when the mood turns serious, and the details regarding the title character's backstory finally emerge, it's a whole new ballgame ... and one that must withstand the numerous new questions that erupt. Ngo and Gilligan's script — which apparently kicked around Hollywood for quite a few years — isn't up to the challenge.

Or Berg wasn't.

Either way, Hancock emerges as a compromised product. It feels as if some studio wonk, bothered by the tonal shift, came along with a chainsaw and hacked away chunks of exposition. This story apparently has some key villains, aside from the criminal riff-raff Hancock dispatches without breaking into a sweat; we definitely need to know more about these major baddies, but answers there are none.

It's an intriguing paradox: Just as Hancock becomes much more interesting, it also becomes more frustrating.

Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan -- Shaping the myth

Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan (2007) • View trailer for Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan
Four stars (out of five). Rating: R, for considerable violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.2.08
Buy DVD: Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan • Buy Blu-Ray: Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan [Blu-ray]

His eventual world-conquering prowess notwithstanding, Russian filmmaker Sergei Bodrov's sumptuous Mongol suggests that Genghis Khan never would have survived into seasoned adulthood without frequent divine intervention and considerable help from his wife.

Temudgin (Tadanobu Asano, left) and his beloved Börte (Khulan Chuluun)
snatch a moment to themselves before the arrival of yet another crisis, when the
future nation-builder once again will be forced to battle for his life.

None of which makes this story any less powerful, of course, although the delivery smacks more of myth-making than any scholarly attempt at historical accuracy.

I can't really blame Bodrov, who directed this handsomely mounted film and co-wrote the script with Arif Aliyev. One cannot check textbooks for events that took place in the late 12th century, and thus we're forced to accept Bodrov's interpretation of legend. This is annoying only a few times, specifically when the young warrior's certain death seems assured ... until the next moment, when "the Gods" effect a nifty rescue.

Indeed, the first time this happens — when young Temudgin, not yet khan of anything, crashes through thin ice and plunges into the chilly waters of a massive frozen lake — we can't help wondering if this is merely some sort of oddly symbolic dream ... because, in the next scene, the boy is prostrate on the frozen tundra, somehow having a) not sunk to the bottom due to the weight of his heavy protective clothing; b) gotten himself out of the lake; and c) avoided freezing to death once his sodden body was exposed to the frigid air above.

Bodrov doesn't show any of the details that a reasonable viewer might deem essential: The boy crashes through the ice and into the water, and then — poof! — he's back on land, nowhere near the lake, and rescued by a helpful young shepherd.

Hey, I'm willing to accept our hero being a "chosen one," but it'd be nice to have a little more clarity!

We modern Western viewers, in particular, are much more likely to be impressed by Bodrov's characterization of Börte, Temudgin's faithful, loving and impressively resourceful wife. Now, this is a woman to cherish: She saves her husband's bacon more times than I can count, and is willing to do anything — including selling herself — in order to remain at his side.

Temudgin, for his part, is progressive enough to heed her counsel on matters of importance; he also quite generously accepts as "his" the two children that Börte bears by other men, during the course of this story.

Indeed, you'll be hard-pressed to detect any disagreeable flaws in this characterization of Temudgin. Even as a nascent nation-builder, he's brutal but fair: the sort of leader who first ensures that his men and their families want for nothing, before taking his share of any plunder. Small wonder he attracts followers by the bushel.

But that's getting ahead of things.

WALL-E: True heart

WALL-E (2008) • View trailer for WALL-E
Five stars (out of five). Rating: G, although perhaps too rough for very young viewers
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.27.08
Buy DVD: WALL-E • Buy Blu-Ray: Wall-E (Two-Disc and BD Live) [Blu-ray]

Now I get it.

All John Lasseter's efforts since his humble origins with 1984's The Adventures of Andre and Wally B — all the hilarious short subjects and increasingly accomplished feature films — have been part of a calculated plot.

Whatever else he does during an average day of scavenging and trying to clean
up the hopeless mess that has been left on planet Earth, the little robot hero of
WALL-E must charge his solar cells via some direct exposure to sunlight. This
will become a serious issue, when events propel the resourceful 'bot into an
adventure that takes him far, far away from good ol' Sol.

The entire American viewing audience has been positioned, as a result of Toy Story, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille and the rest, to expect nothing but greatness from Pixar. We expect classics every year. Indeed, we've known for months that WALL-E was one of this summer's few sure bets.

And now, recognizing that we're all properly primed, Lasseter & Co. have made their move.

Because WALL-E is far from an ordinary Pixar flick.

Oh, sure: It has the same gorgeous animation, the same meticulously detailed character work, the same aw-shucks cute touches that we've come to expect from Pixar.

But WALL-E includes something else — something extra — that we've never seen from Lasseter's crew.

This one has teeth.

Director Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo) and co-writers Pete Docter and Jim Reardon clearly are fans of cautionary science-fiction, because they've made a Silent Running for the early 21st century. Utilizing Pixar's masterful storytelling skills — and they are considerable — Stanton has produced an unflinchingly savage indictment of corporate greed, wasteful human behavior and our unwillingness to be better stewards of planet Earth ... and wrapped it all up in the irresistible saga of a forlorn little robot cursed by having developed a personality.

You think it was tough, when Bambi learned of his mother's death? You think it was hard, when Pinocchio got swallowed by that whale, or when Dumbo was rocked gently to sleep by his shackled mother?

Such scenes pale when compared to the first 10 minutes or so of WALL-E, as we realize that this little robot is the last sentient being on a garbage-strewn Earth ... not counting his mute, apparently indestructible cockroach companion. (I always knew they'd survive anything.)

And WALL-E is lonely.

Oh, my goodness.

One of the saddest moments I've ever experienced is the final scene from Steven Spielberg's A.I., as we realize that the sentient robot teddy bear — having faithfully followed Haley Joel Osment's young android protagonist through a series of dangerous adventures — is prepared to wait forever for a friend who'll never wake up again.

The dawning awareness that WALL-E has endured 700 years of such isolation is a similar kick to the chest.

(If you're scoffing over the notion of getting sentimental about lifelike teddy bears or boxy little robots, the heck witcha. You ain't got no soul.)

Wanted: Not so much

Wanted (2008) • View trailer for Wanted
Three stars (out of five). Rating: R, for profanity and relentless violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.26.08
Buy DVD: Wanted • Buy Blu-Ray: Wanted [Blu-ray]

The good news: As hoped, coupling Timur Bekmambetov's adrenalin-fueled, hyper-stylized flourishes with a reasonably linear script results in a movie that's somewhat more approachable than the Russian director's absurdly over-praised Night Watch and its sequel, Day Watch.

While Fox (Angelina Jolie) watches impassively, Wesley (James McAvoy, left)
accepts a pistol from The Gunsmith (Common) and tries to believe — to really,
truly believe — that he can make bullets "bend" around obstructing objects
after having been fired.

The bad news: Wanted ain't that much better.

Fans of The Matrix and its mystical, too-cool-for-the-room characters probably will devour this stuff and nonsense, and fairness demands that I acknowledge having found portions of Wanted amusing and occasionally clever. But the physics- defying CGI stuntwork and perpetual gunplay become tiresome, as do Bekmambetov's crazy-quilt visuals.

This guy makes movies for people who find MTV's smash-cut editing a bit too leisurely.

The other potential problem concerns the fact that screenwriters Michael Brandt, Derek Haas and Chris Morgan have screwed around with the plotline as presented in the Mark Millar/J.G. Jones graphic novel on which this film is based, and not to the property's improvement. Arrogant scripters who insist on leaving their own leaden footprints do so at their own risk: Chances are, the original writer(s) did just fine on their own, thank you very much.

And by so drastically mutating the character dynamic, Brandt & Co. have completely compromised our ability to identify with some (all? none?) of the players in this highly warped fantasy.

The result, therefore, is more comic book than the original comic book. Bekmambetov does pretty well with sheer momentum — he's particularly adept at that — but the vehicle sputters and eventually sinks beneath the weight of its own metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.

None of which can be blamed on the cast members, who give it their all. Star James McAvoy, in particular, holds things together far longer than the film deserves; he's a perfect nebbish who blossoms into a fully credible reluctant assassin.

Angelina Jolie is similarly ideal as one of McAvoy's mysterious mentors; she has the smirky, amused superiority that this film desperately needs ... a sense that she knows this is all over-revved nonsense, but she's game for a good time, and we should do no less.

And, for awhile, the invitation is tantalizing.

McAvoy stars as Wesley, a cubicle-dwelling drone who pushes papers in some insignificant office, where he's harassed on a regular basis by a tyrannical boss (Lorna Scott, wonderfully dreadful) who throws her considerable weight about while terrorizing everybody under her command. Wes gets little relief at home, where his skanky girlfriend seizes every opportunity to do the nasty with our hero's office mate and supposed best friend.

Wes' life, in short, is an unrelenting nightmare of brow-beaten insignificance.

Kung Fu Panda: Panda-monium

Kung Fu Panda (2008) • View trailer for Kung Fu Panda
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG, and quite pointlessly, for harmless martial-arts mayhem
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.6.08
Buy DVD: Kung Fu Panda • Buy Blu-Ray: Kung Fu Panda (Two Disc Blu-ray/DVD Combo)

The concept is too silly for words, which is precisely the point.

You can't even glance at Po, the corpulent hero of Kung Fu Panda, without laughing.

Shifu (right), the kung fu master, can't imagine how he could ever transform the
corpulent Po into a martial-arts fighting machine ... until an epiphany strikes:
The oversized panda will do anything for food ... and that includes fighting
with impressive skill.

In lesser hands, this film might have gone no further than childish farce. But credit a stable of writers — Ethan Reiff, Cyrus Voris, Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger — for a script that cleverly blends ancient Chinese tradition with American geek culture, and credit directors John Stevenson and Mark Osborne for maintaining a snappy pace. (So nice to see a film that gets on the stage, tells its story in an economical 92 minutes, and then gets off.)

Mostly, though, this film owes its success to its gorgeous animation and sublime voice acting.

I mean, really: Dustin Hoffman as Shifu, an itty-bitty critter that happens to be a kung fu master?

The only thing funnier than that is the notion that Oogway, Shifu's master — and the apparent inventor of kung fu — is an ancient, slow-moving tortoise.

Hoffman is notorious for his adherence to "method"; I fondly recall Laurence Olivier's comment, during the filming of Marathon Man, when Hoffman prepared for a particular scene — one that called for his character to look whipped because he hadn't slept for days — by actually not sleeping for two days.

"My dear boy," Olivier is reported to have said, "why don't you just try acting?"

I can't imagine what Hoffman might have done to prepare for this role, but the effort clearly paid off. More crucially, the animators give Shifu's face a wealth of expressions that perfectly match Hoffman's palpable intensity. That all this should emerge in so diminutive a character ... well, that's just icing on the cake.

(Actually, trying to determine Shifu's species is surprisingly difficult in a film where all the other creatures are so easy to identify. He looks like a tiny cross between a possum and a raccoon. Hoffman has claimed, during interviews, that he's "a rare small red panda." Which I guess makes sense.)

The setting is ancient China, more or less, although the country is occupied not by people, but by animals. Ordinary citizens are the more vulnerable forest and barnyard creatures: bunnies, pigs and various birds. Po, the only panda in sight, sticks out like a sore thumb ... all the more because he seems to have been "adopted," at some point in the distant past, by his fussy father, a goose named Mr. Ping (James Hong).

Dad's sole hope in life is that his son will embrace the family calling and become a famous noodle chef.